Fascination
by The-Queen-of-Fantasy
Summary: After a standard mission with the remnants of Team Iron Man, you have a very non-standard encounter with another member. T'Challa\reader, set after Civil War


**Warnings: no condom in sight, but you sure as hell should use one in real life.**

 **A\N: the suit's enticing, ok?**

"Debriefing will be tomorrow at 0700, do _not_ accidentally disappear before then," Secretary Ross boomed down the hallway to the team, though it was clear that most of it was directed at a scoffing Tony Stark.

You shook your head, knowing the futility of such a command. You peeled off your mask and let it hang around your neck though you could still feel the slightly caked blood and sweat from the mission rimming your eyes and hairline, some of it your own but mostly from the poor sap who hit you first.

T'Challa's smooth voice muttered from beside you, "I was called into this mission as a favor, and now I am being ordered around concerning their paperwork?"

"That's bureaucracy, Highness." You offered a wry smile. "Your country has it and so does ours."

He stalked down the hallway while still looking positively murderous in his full suit of vibranium armor and you gazed openly at his frame before falling in step as you both headed for the residential quarters of the compound. Then all at once his shoulders softened, losing the weight of the mission, and he regarded you with more mirthful eyes.

"I had not previously seen much of your fighting techniques while being so preoccupied while in Germany," he conceded with a telltale smirk, "and I am impressed. I should not be the only one considered to have the reflexes of a cat."

To see the king joking was refreshing as well as giving you room to be bolder. "With all due respect, you still look more of the part. The claws are very convincing."

With a distinct clinking sound, T'Challa displayed the sharp silver points for you to see. Unfortunately your first thought shot to how those claws would feel scraping down your back and you had to clear your throat to refocus. You couldn't help that the adrenaline from a fight didn't wear off for hours.

"I'm impressed, too. Those are more up close and personal than the stuff coming out of my hands."

He swiveled on his heel and physically stopped you in your tracks, the breadth of space between you only leaving room for him to purse his lips before saying, "Do remember that this is merely a suit."

"Made of vibranium with your very real skills underneath," you gave his bicep a prod, testing the waters of contact and delighting when he did not shy away from it. "You should be proud, Highness."

"You are in fact allowed to call me by my name. And is there a reason you are pushing your praises on me?"

The dead end visible behind the king's back made you briskly aware that you had been wandering quite aimlessly while chatting. Perhaps he was also becoming fond of your presence as you were his?

"It builds team spirit to show appreciation for each other, T'Challa," you mused as you turned to another hallway. "And we've never spoken at length or I would've mentioned it earlier."

He beamed down at you with a dashing smile, teasing, "I would have thought you were trying to flatter me."

"In a work environment? Not the best place for frivolous compliments," You walked at an even closer pace to him, drawn to him like the tide being pulled back into the ocean. It couldn't be so wrong to want to be close to his mesmerizing warmth.

"And that difference would be me discussing how your fighting skills are to be feared as opposed to saying how your suit color complements you well?"

You slowed and finally stopped with your shoulder against the nearest doorframe, mind whirling at the possibilities he was opening up. Your eyes studied his dark ones as he leaned in to give his own raking gaze and you couldn't have broken the contact if you tried.

"You'd be pretty good at complimenting if you were to try it." Your hair was already a mess so you tossed a hand through it, daring him to ignore you now.

"Excellent coloring, robust material," he hummed while dragging a hand down your arm, hypnotic claws still extended and catching ever so slightly against the fabric. "Thankfully we fight on the same side because were we ever to spar, you would have me at good odds."

"Maybe we should spar before the next mission to hone our skills." You slipped your hand to the door handle behind you and slowly turned it, watching T'Challa's expression solidify into hunger as the door creaked open.

Barely above a whisper, he demanded, "Tell me if you do not want this."

"I'm telling you I do."

He was crushed against you and your bodies were hidden from sight before you took your next full breath, though it was decidedly filtered through his magnificent lips. They bruised against you, blow after blow that you received and returned with a fire that threatened to torch its way through your whole being before you'd even finished.

The room you receded to was a break room of sorts, or at least that's what you guessed from the brief flashes you actually saw. The other whole of your attention was shattered between the kiss and his needy hands and the growing tightness between your legs.

"Answer me truthfully," he blustered against you, "did you imagine we would end up here before today?"

Your ass slammed into a cabinet and he wrangled you up to sit on it as you drawled, "All the time, your Highness. You should have seen me alone in my room after the airport battle."

He keened at the thought of your own hand at your core and automatically brought his fingertips up to mimic the action, rubbing just smoothly enough through your outfit to be infuriating. You managed to kiss him again and bite at his lip when his thumb finally passed over your bundle of nerves and then quite suddenly the room was too hot to stay clothed as you were.

For all the moving you did in a fight it was important that your suit was at least two separate pieces. It just so happened to be extremely useful for this kind of mission as well and your shirt slipped over your head without a hitch.

T'Challa must've noticed your fascination earlier because he brought both hands around your back, claws bared, and scraped gently from shoulder blades to hips. You moaned aloud at the delicious sensation and were proud of the raised marks it surely left behind. He did it again and your back arched at the zigzags, pushing your breasts flush against him with a heated pressure to rival the one at your center and his bulge rested against it. The third drag of the sharp points and you thought you would spin into the abyss when his lips and scruff attached as an anchor to your neck.

Your own lips fumbled at his cheek and when your teeth nipped, he growled. "You are…"

"Magnificent?" you taunted at his hesitance.

"Still too clothed."

He had been the Black Panther for so long that the gleam in his eye was unmistakably that of a cat's and yet yours matched quite well as you pushed him away to yank off the rest of your garments.

He did the same, peeling off the great suit and you momentarily mourned the loss of real claws until he stood in front of you in all his naked glory. You eagerly skipped to the couch in the far corner of the room and he followed closely behind, and you used the momentum to spin him around so that you landed on top as the couch creaked in protest under your conjoined weight.

T'Challa's hands came to rest at your hips and he was more direct this time when he huffed, "You are intoxicating."

The throbbing length between you nearly stole all of your attention but that glinting white smile was more than you bargained for, oozing a charm that you managed to replicate as you leaned forward onto him.

"You too, Highness."

You kissed him over and over at varying angles as your bodies shifted to align beautifully and it was with his hands still guiding your hips that he sheathed himself in you, drawing a long gasp from your heaving chests. He filled every inch with aching precision and you began rolling against him to quicken the desired friction.

He finally moaned and his own unaided nails now remade their way down your back and your fist pounded against his shoulder in response, though thankfully he understood that to mean anything but stop. The heated breath mingling fogged up all sense of anything but the other body and the rhythm you found to rock in perfectly suited the strength of the yearning tearing at your core.

"Can I tell you a secret?" T'Challa rasped against your jaw. You mumbled to urge him and he continued with no semblance of a steady tone, "I have also envisioned…mm, us here and how this would feel."

You found words hard to come by as the undulating steadily rippled under you and he was an expert at exquisitely dragging out the building pleasure, but you eventually managed to pant, "How is it?"

"You are better than the concocted daydream of the most creative man on earth."

A pang of heat shot from your chest to your lower belly and you caught a glimpse of the King's mouth twisted in his own private ecstasy though his thrusting didn't falter for a moment, effectively driving you closer to the perfect peak. You felt his arms encircle you in a steadying grip as your moans took up again and your throbbing clit being massaged with each roll of his lower abdomen against yours.

You could hear T'Challa calling your name from far off in your heated daze and so you echoed his own. There was pure, unwavering power emanating from his hips and his lips as they ravished you and you wanted to worship it until the end of time. That came sooner than you thought because without warning you were flung off the pleasurable edge as euphoria poured over you, pulling every nerve taut and a gasp out of your throat. The clenching around him caused the king to tumble after you, elongating out his movements as his grip on your waist became deliciously tight.

Breathless. He was breathlessly beautiful splayed beneath you once you bothered to open your eyes and you had no breath left to say so until he kissed life back into your lungs.

"And to think we were holding out on each other," you finally commented as you slumped against his chest.

His fingers found your back to begin soothingly tracing the scratches left minutes before. "It is not my place to pursue partners while holding the mantle of King so as to avoid taking advantage of others."

"So you're blaming me?"

His smirk cleared the air between you and held the promise of more trysts to come.

The padding of footsteps down the hallway just outside the door acted as an alarm clock to wake both of you from your groggy arousal and you reluctantly slinked off of him and back to where your clothes were strewn about. As he turned his back to you to find his own you marveled at the tattoo stretching across the expanse of his shoulders and made a note to return the back-scratching favor next time.

You had just finished tugging your top down to meet your pants when you swiveled and found T'Challa having done the same, his mouth hung open with an unspoken thought.

You edged yours out first. "So how do you wanna get out of here unnoticed?"

He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders to say, "I believe Mr. Stark was already aware of the possibility of our rendezvous."

"What? He said something to you?"

"He called himself 'omniscient' on the subject of attraction and had apparently laid a bet with Commander Rhodes concerning the two of us." When you rested a hand to your forehead, T'Challa continued with a knowing grin, "Are you particularly ashamed of our actions?"

"No!" you corrected immediately, strolling over to steal a long kiss and openly ogling him the whole way. "No, I couldn't feel guilty about this if I tried."


End file.
